Voltaire's Mistress and Salad Dressing
by 10th Muse
Summary: Another M rated One Shot Story. This one takes place after Season 4, Episode 16 "Business is my Pleasure" - what happens when Hotch and Emily comes home from Texas.


**Criminal Minds**

 **Voltaire's mistress and Salad Dressing?**

 **.**

.

She caught him working on the Megan Kane file.

"Franҫois-Marie Arouet." She walked in, almost startling him as he looked up from his work.

"Pardon?"

She placed an old bound book on his desk as she sat on the chair across from him, "Do you know Voltaire is not his true name?"

He shook his head.

She continued, "It's an anagram he made up from his name Arouet LI or the young in Latin."

He stared at her for a moment before he nodded, "You seemed to know about him quite well."

She shrugged, "I had to do a thesis in college in my second year. Scored a stupid 65%."

He raised his brow, "That's pretty horrible, Prentiss. What was the critique?"

She grinned, "Knew you'd ask, my professor wrote; 'You presumed Voltaire's exile to Great Britain was an insult to his family was nothing but a ruse. What proof do you have that he was actually more than a spy for the French King Louis XV and his mistress. That was a bunch of crock.'

Hotch looked stunned as Emily chuckled, "A spy? You didn't?"

She nodded, "I did, and it was a rather pretty convincing piece. I met with my prof and argued with him for over an hour. He finally caved and changed my thesis score to a 99% when I showed him a letter."

"What letter?"

"Open the book."

He did as she indicated, he picked up an old piece of paper from the inside of the cover of the book.

"This looks antiqued, dated...?" He looked up at her for confirmation.

"It's a letter written from Madam de Pompadour to Voltaire, it's an original in 1770 when he was 73. She thanked him for being such an excellent tutor. He died three years later."

He frowned slightly as he replaced the letter back into the book, "Tutor? He was her tutor?"

She nodded, "After she married her husband and was awarded the title Madame d'Etoiles, she quickly moved into the French high society circles and was introduced in the Royal Court where she caught the eye of none other than that of King Louis XV. Voltaire barely knew her then but he began to tutor her in the etiquette of court duties and in modern terms, he was sort of Henry Higgins to her Eliza Doolittle."

Hotch nodded in understanding, "I see."

"Yeah," She smiled. "Pompadour and Voltaire, as soon as she was accepted as the new Royal mistress, did exchanged several correspondences. I guess if they had cell phones in those days, they'd use text messages." She chuckled. "Her user mane'd probably be Pompy21."

He shook his head but she saw his dimples deepened, "And I guess Voltaire's would be Volt94?"

She let of a laugh, "That's a good one." She stood up. "My father valued both letter and this book." She walked to the door.

"Wait a minute, Prentiss, you're letting me have this?" He indicated the book. "I can't accept it."

She shook her head, "I've read it several times, too, Hotch. Megan Kane, she valued fine books like fine wine. I know you'll enjoy it."

He still hesitated.

She stopped, "Look, her copy is still in the FBI evidence locker and will remained for an undetermined amount of time. I know you, Hotch; you're curious." She gave him a knowing look, "I'll see you later."

He nodded but barely acknowledged her as it had finally sank in, he had a real copy of Voltaire's 1759 _The Candide_. There were only three known originals of _The Candide_.

"Thank you, Emily." He looked up when she didn't answered but he realized she'd already left for the night. A look down at the bullpen confirmed; her desk was emptied as well.

He began with the letter, and then the book; they were all in French.

The workload forgotten for once.

…...

Saturday late afternoon, he found her at her apartment, he walked and saw she was in the kitchen making some Italian pasta dish.

"Experimenting again?" He snaked his hand around her waist and planted a kiss on the back of her neck; she smelled of onions and garlic, and parsley, among other exotic Italian herbs.

"It's battuto, which means beaten." She leaned into his body for more of his kisses.

He stopped his kisses and sniffed the air, "I think you might have over done the onions."

She huffed, "Don't critique the chef, especially when she's gonna feed you."

He smiled into her neck, "I'd rather you feed me something else." He began to suck and tease her more.

She bent her head, laughing at the same time as she pushed him slightly away.

He looked up, "What? Am I doing something wrong?"

She shook her head, "Later, dinner's almost ready...I've to check the stove." She leaned over the saucepan and began to stir.

Hotch moved to press his body against her, "I like this position pretty well, Prentiss. Maybe we ought to try it." He tried to sound firmly as he smoothly played with her tight rear.

"Hotchner, if I burn our dinner, you'll be reduce to eating stale oyster crackers and bottled water." She muttered as she wriggled her butt responding to his touches.

He rubbed along her strong thighs, "Just check on your damn pasta dish, Prentiss." He lifted her shirt and slipped his hands onto her bare waist and began to work his way up to her upper chest."

She moaned slightly at his touch, "You always know how to stir my pasta."

He smiled as he began to massage her breasts through her bra, "I'm good a kneading too."

"Oh, mm...yes." She nodded turning her face into his kiss.

"The pasta dish, Prentiss, don't burn our dinner," he whispered as he moved from her lips and nibbled her ear lobe.

"Ah crap...the heck with the dinner, I'm hungry for something else now!" She slid the pan over to an unlit burner and turned to face him and wrapped her hands around his neck, "Bedroom, now!"

He raised his brow before lifting her and carried to her bedroom.

Laying her down, he looked at her, "Émilie du Châtelet, mistress of Voltaire, is that who you're named after?" he was removing her shirt as he planted kisses upon kisses on her soft skin."

She chuckled, "My father was quite obsessed with Voltaire as well."

He glance up from her pants, "But your name is not spelled like hers?"

She shook her head, "You have no idea the battle royale in the Prentiss household in regards to how they want to spell my name prior to my arrival."

Hotch mumbled something incoherent as he had removed her pants and panties, his tongue busy administrating something incredible to her insides.

"Ooh...my god, don't stop," She clutched a handful of his hair tightly. All conversations ceased when she began to buck against his tongue as he touched and pressed her clit hard.

She was wet already.

Sliding two fingers into her, he knew she liked the added pressure, soon he felt her hips pushing against his fingers, she wanted more! He looked up, he wanted to see her face; he smiled when he noticed her eyes was close but her mouth was opened and her breathing was labored.

She was enjoying what he was doing to her!

Then again, he was enjoying her equally.

Sliding his fingers, he brought them to her lips so she could taste her own juices which she lapped greedily, suckling noisily.

He leaned forward and kissed her deeply, tasting her cream in her mouth; it was sweet and salty, just like her and he liked it.

She opened her eyes and smiled, "Now?"

He nodded as he smoothly slid his erection into her; oh, he was very hard! He had been ready and horny all week!

It was all he could do to control himself as he felt her moving her hips.

She stared at him curiously, "What?"

He shook his head, "Just don't move yet." He answered gruffly.

She grinned, instantly knew his control was not quite what it seemed, "Horny?" She teased him.

He glared at her, swooped down and kissed her hard, punishing her, "Just. Don't. Move. Prentiss."

She nodded, "Yes. Sir." She chuckled.

"Brat." He uttered at he groaned when she contracted her inner muscles playfully.

"Sorry." She grinned.

He leaned down and sucked one of her breasts hard; he knew where her weakness was.

"Shit, Hotch!" She sucked in her breath as she grabbed his shoulder and soon she wrapped her inner thighs around his waist and began to rock.

"Emil...Oh hell!" He uttered as he joined her, their tempo increasing until they came together as one!

He collapsed into her, his breathing was hard as if he had been running a 5k marathon!

Emily felt as if her heart was close to bursting and willed it to slow down, all the while she stroked the back of Hotch's hair; she find that it soothed both of them.

They awoke a couple of hours later, and reheated her pasta dinner and opened a bottle of wine and talked more while they ate.

…...

Monday morning, 7:55am

Emily arrived at her work desk to find a copy of _Papa Hemingway_ written by A.E. Hotchner.

Curious, she opened the book and saw that it was signed by the author himself and addressed to his father.

Emily smiled softly as she looked up to his office; his door was opened.

Smiling, she took the book with her and knocked on the door but entered without waiting for his invitation.

"You were named after Hemingway's buddy?" She began.

He didn't looked up, "Be thankful it's not Hemingway himself. It was a close call."

She chuckled. "We're thankful. I can't see you as an Ernest."

He finally turned his face to look at her, "Me too, when I found out about it from my mother, I thanked her every day."

She grinned.

Hotch smiled, "Do you know Hotchner is buddies with the actor Paul Newman and they founded Newman's Own?"

She arched a brow, "What? The salad dressings?"

He nodded, "And other foorproducts, and the profits go to charities."

Her smiles widened, "I loved those salad dressings!"

He rolled his eyes, "Be serious, Emily. This is a good person."

She held her hand on her chest, looking affronted, "What? I am serious, and I'm a good person too." She dropped her hand onto her lap. "Come on, Hotch, you know I'm kidding."

He nodded. "I had a great time."

"Me too. By the way, we never finished the conversation."

He nodded, "That's right, your name."

"Dad wanted my name exactly like hers ending with an 'ie but mother wouldn't have it, insisted it was childish." She shrugged. "They went back and forth for nearly four months." She shook her head while Hotch raised his brows. "Finally he caved and settled with the 'ly'.

He nodded. "I like your name as it is."

Before she had the chance to reply, JJ knocked on the door and poked her head, "Sorry for the interruption, guys." She was holding her cell phone. "We have an urgent case."

They nodded as they stood up at the same time, "Meet up in the conference room." Hotch acknowledged JJ with a firm nod.

Emily hurried to join her friend. "What're you two talking about?" JJ smiled at her friend. "You two were pretty deep into it."

Emily shrugged as she opened the door to the conference room as JJ stepped in, "Oh, nothing much, just boring book talk."

JJ turned around and stared at Emily, "Hotch? Books?"

Emily nodded as she took her seat and settled down, "Yeah, he reads, too, you know."

The blonde agent shook her head, "Er no, I didn't know he has the time to read besides those boring case files he's up to his eyeballs with." She indicated her hand up to her eyes for effect.

Emily laughed, "Yeah, that's true."

Hotch and Rossi came in a short time later, followed by Reid and Morgan.

JJ stood up, "Okay, we're heading to Pelhelm, Georgia, three killings..."

….

The End

-I do not own the TV series, Criminal Minds or its characters, or the book Voltaire written, or A.E. Hotchner who is still very much alive (and no, I don't think Hotch is named after the author. It's something I made up!)


End file.
